


we had today

by sirensongs (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:31:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sirensongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis works in Mr. Thompson's book shop as he goes through university. And one day a head of curly hair is asking Louis if he has any suggestions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we had today

**Author's Note:**

> So this just... This just sort of happened. I really hope you guys love this as much as I do. I don't know where this came from but I love it and it's already got a special place in my heart! xx Robby  
> and you can check me out on tumblr at http://sugarandstyles.tumblr.com ♡

Louis particularly enjoyed days where he could simply arrange the filled box of unsorted books. The days when the store smelled of rain and ink and old pages cracking open. The shop was a lovely little mystery. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky as to work in it, though, actually he did.

As a primary student Louis was in the shop almost every other day. Maybe every day some weeks. He’d enter through the large black, wooden door and hear the familiar sound of the clinking bell. He’d see Mr. Thompson, his bright blue eyes and his thinning gray hair, and he’d always be scribbling away at some parchment behind the obscenely large, dark wooden desk. Mr. Thompson would always greet Louis with the kindest of smiles he’d ever seen.

“Hello, Louis!” Mr. Thompson would say, every single day on the dot. “You’re back!”

And Louis would smile up at him as he rose from his seat and pulled his spectacles from his nose. “Yes,” Louis would say. “I loved the last title, Mr. Thompson!”

“And so you’re ready for another, then?” Mr. Thompson would say, leading Louis back to the many rows of books. “You’re limiting my selections!” He’d tease.

Louis would nod, “Yes, I’m sorry, Mr. Thompson.”

“No, boy, don’t be sorry. I’m quite happy to see such a bright young man interested in reading.” He looked to Louis as he always would and he’d raise a brow. “Looks as though today you’re feeling rather adventurous!” And then he’d suggest Stevenson or Melville. And Louis would always take Mr. Thompson’s suggestions to heart, and he’d get the book at half price because Mr. Thompson just sincerely adored him that much.

By secondary school Louis was even more regular, he’d spend his time doing homework in the back room some nights when he knew his mother would be working late or if he particularly wanted to enjoy the smell of books and drink some fresh tea and simply relax. Mr. Thompson was growing older and he quite enjoyed having Louis to work the old computer, sending out orders for books and having inventories done. Louis never asked for payment and always denied any offers, telling Mr. Thompson he was perfectly happy just to help a friend.

Mr. Thompson’s wife had passed away a few years before, and so the bookshop was a sadder place for Mr. Thompson, but he explained to Louis that in the same way it made him sad, it made him very happy indeed. And so he would hope to keep it for as long as possible.

“You’ve not been around in a week!” Mr. Thompson cried as Louis entered the shop one day, his typical cream cable knit sweater clinging to his body and his leather book bag weighing him down.

Louis was quick to set the heavy bag behind the desk. “It’s been a nightmare,” he admitted with a sigh. “Been out looking for jobs. Need to start saving for Uni, my mum doesn’t have quite enough to put me through.”

Mr. Thompson’s face was simply screwed up, he crinkled his nose. “Louis Tomlinson, you are the brightest boy I know and yet at times the daftest!”

“Is that so?” Louis mocked, raising a brow and walking toward the small back room where the a Coke would’ve been available.

“It most certainly is!” Mr. Thompson sighed, “Louis, I’ll have you work for me. You can help keep the place tidy and organized. And you’re already brilliant with that old computer!” And before Louis could protest, the elder man raised his hands and left the room, he could still be heard, of course, as he rattled on. “You’ll start tomorrow, or today, whichever you want. You know exactly all that has to be done, no need to even train you.”

Louis smiled to himself in the loneliness of the room. He was enthralled and felt a bit stupid for not even _considering_ the possibility that Mr. Thompson would have wanted him to work at the shop.

And so Louis worked there through college and was in his first year of university on the particularly gloomy day when no customers were to be seen. On such occasions it was customary for Mr. Thompson to retreat to his flat above the shop and take a nap as Louis watched over things, cleaning up and organizing and keeping a keen ear out for the bell’s rings. Days when the shop were empty were the most fun, and he did enjoy helping customers a lot, and of course he enjoyed many of them and knew he _needed_ them for the shop to stay in business, but when he had the shop to himself he had time to think and he liked the quietness.

Louis remembered a particular time when the shop was empty. He’d turned to Mr. Thompson as they stood behind the desk, stamping the covers of books with the store seal. “Mr. Thompson,” said Louis, who was seventeen.

“Yes, Louis?” Mr. Thompson said, not looking up from the book he currently held. He must’ve been examining the publication information, Louis noted, because usually it was a quicker process.

“Perhaps...” Louis sighed. “I think I might want to tell you something,” he said slowly. “It’s nothing too bad,” he began. Mr. Thompson was nodding his head quite slowly, his face still pointed to the pages of the book. “Well, you know how Romeo and Juliet... Or Elizabeth and Darcy... Or... Oh, I just...”

“What is it, Louis?” Mr. Thompson asked, flipping his fingers through a few pages and raising his brow at something that appeared to be a mustard stain.

Louis sighed, “I’m gay. Is that okay with you, Mr. Thompson? I’ve known for a while, actually. I just didn’t know if you’d mind or not... And I feel you’re owed the knowledge at the very least...”

Mr. Thompson closed the book onto his thumb before looking to Louis, smiling to him and his face had a sense of youngness in its happiness, though of course his pale complexion and graying features were contradictory to his emotions. “Louis, my boy. You’re like my own son. Do you think I didn’t know?” He pats Louis on the shoulder. “Don’t fret, sport. You’re quite the catch I’d assume. You know Violet was most fond of you, she was the one who figured it out first, but I think I could’ve done it, too!” He had turned into something of a joke, which Louis was relieved about. He tried to ignore the reference to Violet, Mr. Thompson’s late wife.

“Well that’s a relief,” Louis nodded. “I just didn’t know how to say it before and I was just thinking you deserved to know. In case one day I want to introduce you to someone or something...”

Mr. Thompson smiled, “I would love for that day to come, Louis.” He kept stamping books. “Have you told your mother and sisters or anyone at school?”

Louis grinned, trying to suppress a laugh. “I’d like to avoid that question, Mr. Thompson!”

“Why’s that?” Mr. Thompson chuckled. 

“If I answered,” Louis began, gigging a small amount. “I’d have to admit to you that you’re absolutely the last person to properly find out.”

Mr. Thompson’s laugh resonated and Louis was sure even the characters in the books were laughing alongside him. “Well that’s all right, Louis. Some things take time. Thank you for telling me.”

Louis nodded, pleased with himself and even more pleased with the accepting love Mr. Thompson always showed him.

The memory was fond to Louis, and even then, nineteen and alone in the tiny little shop, he smiled at the thought. As he was settling into a steady pace, taking a book out of the bin and locating its proper spot among the many shelves, the chiming instructed him to set the book down and to greet the customer with a smile.

“Good afternoon,” Louis said, examining the tall boy. He was lanky and a bit awkward as he held his umbrella by his side. The boy was dressed particularly nicely in tweed and chinos, though he must’ve encountered a puddle because his shoes were quite damp as were the bottoms of his trousers.

The boy’s voice was like glue, it was thick and dripped and Louis was stuck. “Good afternoon,” he said and his smile was curt and genuine. He had deep brown hair with voluminous curls trickling over each side of his face and forming into a sort of mass atop his head.

Louis was quite intrigued by the boy and so he sincerely hoped that he’d be interested in some assistance. “Needing any help today?”

“Dunno,” he admitted. He pushed away a few curls and shoved his wet umbrella into his coat pocket. “I’m looking for something... Something... Interesting.”

There was a moment when Louis had to actively fight a smile. He didn’t mean to laugh at this young man before him but there was something so absolutely hilarious about the way his face crunched into itself as he thought, the way his bottom lip disappeared into his mouth and his eyes traced the ceiling. Louis finally gave in to a smile. “You’re looking for something interesting,” he repeated slowly, “Come along this way?”

Footsteps assured Louis that the tall gentleman was indeed following him back, and once they reached a tiny hallway between bookshelves Louis stopped and turned to face his shadow. “You’re looking for something interesting,” he recalled. “Interesting like romance? Interesting like tragedy? Interesting like an epic?”

“Maybe the first one,” The young man said sort of under his breath, as though a slight embarrassment was overcoming him.

“Romantic?” Louis chimed, his eyes brightening. “Is that so? Well I’ll be happy to help you with that, most of my favorites can be found on those very shelves.” He pointed behind the curly headed boy, “’s actually that way, terribly sorry.” As he followed him back down the narrow passageway he sighed, “If I’m to be honest I was leading you to the mysteries. I didn’t take you for much of a romance novelist. Not that it’s an unpleasant surprise!” He quickly corrected and then as they were back by the main desk, he took the lead, with the other lad following closely behind once again and they were in Louis’ favorite little section.

Louis let his finger run along a few of the spines, “So what sort of romances do you like?”

“Ones that make me feel good,” The boy said. Louis really felt his own heart melt at the answer and he smiled to himself tightly. “I like ones with happy endings probably.”

“I can see that,” Louis said. “You don’t seem to be one to want to wallow in a Sparks novel. What about Austen?”

“Much too...” The boy seemed at a loss for words and so Louis begged his pardon. “Seems really difficult, is all.”

Louis folded his arms and his lips pressed together before curling up into a taut smile. “Would you give it a go?”

“Would I have to?” He asked.

“I’d quite like if you did.” Louis said. “ _Pride and Prejudice_ is my favorite book, you know.”

The boy raised his eyebrows, “Your favorite? Well fine, then. I’ll give it a shot. I’ll see if I like it.”

“I’m certain you will,” Louis said, sparing no time in plucking a copy from the shelf and handing it to the boy. “Should you take your time and enjoy it. It’s not like a lot of the writing that you’ll find today, it’s quite extensive. She uses really long sentences and sometimes things aren’t as explicitly stated as some readers may like...”

The boy nodded slowly, “I’ll give it my best.”

“That’s all I’ll ask,” Louis said. And with that the boy paid for his book and was headed out the door with a small paper bag in hand.

***

Louis helped Mr. Thompson by alphabetizing the Bestseller’s Shelf. It was a new idea a customer had and Mr. Thompson quite liked it. So they added little shelves onto the front of the dark wooden desk and added a few of the most popular titles for customers to notice.

There weren’t many books to sort through and so Louis just broke up the cardboard boxes in the back room and took them out the dumpster. As he returned, he clapped his hands together, desperate for friction and heat to fight off against the cold wind he’d just encountered.

“You shouldn’t go out with just a jumper, Louis!” Mr. Thompson suggested with a slight smile. “Do you mind if I retire for a bit? I haven’t been feeling so well, you know how this weather gets to me.”

Louis nodded politely to the elderly man. Sometimes Louis wondered just how much the weather had to do with Mr. Thompson’s declining health. Not a prospect he liked to consider but it was one he couldn’t help but ponder it from time to time as he watched him slowly ascend the stairs to the flat. “You ring me if you need anything,” Louis called up, as he always did.

Then a few minutes later, as Louis was taking a bite of a muffin behind the desk, he heard the doorbell clatter against the rusty old copper. Food in his mouth, he felt it rude to greet a customer and not be able to say anything, so he dropped down behind the desk, acting as though he was looking for something on the ground. He swallowed as quickly as he could before rising and then seeing the curly haired boy from a couple of days ago.

“You’re back,” Louis said. He felt quite stupid, because usually he was supposed to just say ‘good morning’ or ‘good afternoon’ but here he was, acting as though he knew this person.

The gawky, olive skinned boy nodded, “I need another interesting book.”

Louis folded his arms, walking slowly around the desk and toward the boy. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve already finished _Pride and Prejudice_?”

“Indeed.” His eyes lowered, “I read it, and you were right, I did enjoy it. And I’d like another book by Jane Austen, if you could recommend one.”

This solicited a giddy smile from Louis. He led the boy back to the Romance section once again and then smiled. “So then, tell me what you liked so much about _Pride and Prejudice_?”

The curls bounced around a bit as the boy ran his large hands up his forehead. “Well, I really enjoyed the dynamic between Darcy and Elizabeth. They had a really interesting little story. And all of the sisters had something brilliant going on to add to the drama. It was surprisingly funny and it was somehow relatable, even in this day.”

Louis had learned, from his years of experience visiting and working in Thompson’s Book Shop, that most of the customers who read romance novels were devastatingly single. He was sure that couldn’t be the case for all of them, but all of those who had shared their stories with Thompson or himself had been unhappy and alone. He wondered if this boy was the same way. He seemed too attractive and charming to possibly be single. And yet here he was, spending another day buying a romance novel from a small little book store.

“Exactly,” Louis gushed. “Exactly, it’s as though Jane Austen’s society was more formal and better disguised but all of the intentions and the drama? Still very much alive.”

The boy nodded, “So which shall I read now?”

This was a difficult question, “It depends. I’ve got two scenarios. One: Two sisters are left with nothing and they’ve got to figure out how to make it. Two: A young, rich girl is bored and she decides to play matchmaker, which goes awry. Which would you rather read first?” Louis liked the way he said ‘first’ because it implied that this boy would read them both, which implied that he’d visit again, which Louis was looking forward to.

The boy shrugged, “I’ll go with the second, why not?”

And so then Louis sent the boy off with a copy of _Emma_ and he hoped that he’d be back sooner than later for another.

***

Luckily for Louis, as he stood outside, wiping away at the windows, he noticed an excessively tall figure brooding down the sidewalk toward him. He felt a rush of excitement and a fluttering in his heart because he couldn’t wait to hear how this curly headed giant felt about _Emma_. Of course, being another of Louis’ favorite books, he was hoping this young man would’ve enjoyed it. He finished wiping one of the windows quickly so that he could walk inside with the gentleman dressed in a black coat.

“So did you read _Emma_?” Louis asked, slowly making his way behind the desk to toss the glass wipes into a receptacle below. The lanky boy stood rooted firmly in the center of the room, his eyes fixed on all of the books that were stacked around random parts of the room. He seemed to be interested, as his eyes chased from point to point.

Finally he nodded, “Yeah, I really liked it.”

Louis wanted to know more. “Who was your favorite character?”

“Emma of course,” The boy said.

“Why?” Louis raised a brow.

“She reminded me of you.” He laughed. “You little matchmaker, you. Setting me up with these books.”

Louis rolled his eyes and pushed past Harry gently, leading him back to the romance novels. “You’re such a prat, you do realize, don’t you?”

“Of course I realize,” He said, his voice was like thick honey and he seemed to breathe every word with true feeling. “So now I get to read of the sisters, don’t I?”

This caused Louis to nod with a smile. “Yes, now you get to read about the Dashwoods and their marvelous escapades. Oh, you’ll love this one!” He handed the boy a copy of _Sense and Sensibility._

As they approached the desk where Louis always rang him up, the boy began to speak with a joking tone. “So, do I get the friends and family discount yet?”

Louis snickered, “Are we friends, then? Don’t even know your name.”

The boy smiled, “Harry. Harry Styles is my name.”

“I’m Louis,” Louis said very slowly as he met Harry’s striking emerald colored eyes, his breath hitching for one incredible moment as his fingers slowly brushed Harry’s when they exchanged possession of the title as well.

“Louis Thompson?” Harry asked, his face not too serious but not in any particular sense joking.

The boy shook his head, “No, Tomlinson.”

“Oh, I only thought... Thompson’s Book Shop. Figured you’re the owner and all, probab—”

Louis chuckled, “I’m not the owner. I’m only an employee. The owner is Graham Thompson. He’s a lovely man, a bit aged but a really intelligent fellow. Got me the job to help pay for uni and all.”

Harry seemed to be aghast. “Well you certainly could pass as the owner, Louis. You know everything there is to know about books!”

An entirely too noticeable flash of scarlet appeared over Louis’ cheeks and forehead. “Oh, well, thanks a lot. I appreciate that.”

“Sure thing,” Harry said. “It’s true, though. I’m really surprised, thought for sure you were in charge around here.”

Louis shook his head slowly, taking Harry’s money and rendering him change. “No, I’m just nineteen. Just an average uni student working in a bookshop.”

“Dunno.” Harry took the bag Louis placed his book in and he tilted his head just ever so slightly, his eyes squinted and focused on Louis. “You seem like a bit more than just an average uni student.”

Of course upon hearing this, Louis wished to tell Harry his little game was rubbish but in all actuality it was certainly working. “Quite a charmer,” Louis said, watching Harry shift uneasily. “It’s a good thing,” he assured him. Of course, Louis wasn’t so sure it was a good thing, because he should’ve known better than to fall for such devilry.

Harry left that day with _Sense and Sensibility_ and an obnoxiously giddy grin. Louis was left with the new knowledge of the boy’s name and a ridiculous swelling feeling in his heart that he wished most eagerly to rid himself of.

***

Louis was sitting in a small little cafe a few stops down from Thompson’s. He had his laptop out and he was furiously typing away, no time to waste on finishing his essay. And so he typed and he typed and he enjoyed the subtle distractions that were his earphones. He had to get the top mark in the class on this essay in order to be accepted into the professor’s literary circle, which was quite important to him.

As his fingers flicked away at the last few necessary keys, he looked to the final period and an exasperated sigh escaped his quivering lips. The coffee next to him had gone cold many a moment before and he was already simply exhausted just from all of the revision and annotation and compilation. Louis was able to take his lessons quite seriously but he still couldn’t fight off the beast of procrastination, an ever present foe with seemingly no demise in the near future.

There were several moments where Louis let his chest fill with air, his eyes a bit water from staring at the bright white word processor. He exhaled and tried to let each tremor and riddle leave his body, yet he still had a shakiness about him. The stress of it all working him up. He must’ve been typing when Harry entered the cafe but he was seated across from him at the small wooden table in a moment’s notice.

“A brilliant finish, yeah?” Harry teased as Louis tugged his earphones from their previous resting space. It felt a bit odd _not_ having them in. “Funny running into you here, hope you don’t mind if I join you?”

There was an unexplainable reverence about Harry that Louis really admired. He had a pale face that wasn’t blinding, he had flushed, soft pink lips that were occasionally red, and he had exuberant green eyes that followed you from place to place, never abandoning you and never showing intentions of anything less than constant notice.

“I highly doubt it was a brilliant finish,” Louis sighed. “This is a big one, too. And no, not at all, I’d like the company.” Louis really should've been working on accepting compliments, he realized that, but that was much easier said than actually done. He was just insecure even if he shouldn't have been.

Harry’s face was immediately a different sort of serious. “I bet you did brilliantly. I bet you have quite a way with words.”

Louis took a sip of his coffee, his brows raised over his cup as his focus narrowed on Harry’s smile. “You’re mad. Do you say that because I work in a book shop, then?”

“I guess that’s why,” Harry admitted. “Do you think it’s not true?”

“I do like to write,” Louis said. “So maybe you’re correct.”

Taking a sip of his own, smaller coffee, Harry gave a cock-eyed grin. “Do you write books?”

A thought flew around Louis’ mind. Did he want to reveal pieces of himself to Harry yet? Was Harry reading the book that was Louis or was he skimming the pages? At best, Louis decided that Harry was well enough comprehending and so he nodded very slowly. “Written a sort of children’s fantasy book,” he shrugged. “Harry Potter-like. Probably a bit too Harry Potter-like, since it hasn’t been picked up by a single agent. I gave up on it about two years ago, though.”

“Gave up?” Harry frowned, “I’d never take you to be one to give up.”

“We all can recognize a lost cause when we’re presented with one.” Louis closed his laptop and set it into the messenger bag at his feet. His planner was stuffed in there somewhere and he was going to need to have a look at it in a bit, though that moment was for Harry.

They had a way with each other that was unlike anything Louis had seen before. Since when was he just this comfortable talking to a random stranger, one who’d been by his shop a few times and who’d randomly plopped down to sit with him at a cafe?

It was in that moment that Louis remembered he was wearing his glasses and he quickly snatched them off of his face, his cheeks flashing a violent red.

“You’re not a lost cause,” Harry said. “I’m almost positive you’re going to be published one day. Promise. I can just sense it.” Harry did seem to notice Louis’ quick retraction of his eyeglasses but he didn’t say anything, he just took another swig of coffee. “Working today?”

“Not today,” Louis said. “I have a class at noon and so I’m off.”

“Will you be terribly tired after your exam?”

“Why?”

“Maybe we can do something?” Harry’s gaze captured Louis and wouldn’t possibly allow him to reject his suggestion. He simply had that air, that quickness with his tongue and with his expression, his tongue slipped across his lips and created a slight gloss of spit.

Louis nodded, “Sure, have anything in mind?”

“I’m an open minded person,” Harry told him. “You’re the creative one of us.”

A small elderly woman sat down at the table next to the boys and she greeted them each quietly before settling into read a small paperback book and take occasional sips of her tiny cappuccino. Harry slowly mumbled Louis’ name, startling him to attention. The fact was that Louis couldn’t help but notice the elderly woman and feel a slight morsel of hurt. She reminded him so much of Mr. Thompson, her bones seemed so breakable and her hair was thin and misplaced. Her hands shook as she lifted the cup and her eyes were slow as they blinked. He wondered about her, about her life. Wondered if she lived an adventurous youth like Mr. Thompson did. Maybe she had a husband and he was at work. Or maybe she was like Mr. Thompson, maybe she was alone. Maybe she didn’t have anyone who would join her at the coffee shop that morning.

“Sorry,” Louis muttered, pointing his eyes at his empty coffee cup. “I’m creative?” He tried to pick up the conversation nonchalantly. “Well  I don’t know how to respond to that without disappointing you terribly.”

Harry shrugged, “I think you’re awfully creative. You’re a reader and a writer, your ideas are as vast as the sea.”

“You’re cheesy,” Louis snorted.

“Trying to use my words! Don’t want to seem unfit for company,” Harry raised his pinky as he sipped his drink. “If you’re not going to come up with any ideas I’m sure I could think of something...”

Louis nodded, “I don’t really know all that you enjoy doing, Harry. In fact I don’t know anything you enjoy doing, besides drinking coffee and reading period romance novels.”

“Interestingly enough that’s _nearly_ all I like to do anyway,” he said. “But I do think we could muster up some sort of something.” Harry’s eyes focused on something to his left and he furrowed his brows, “Yes, some sort of something,” he decided. “Do you like parks?”

“Parks?” Louis giggled. “Yes, Harry, I do like parks. Have you got a picnic planned?”

Harry snapped and dramatically sighed, “You’re too brilliant, Louis.”

They sat in a silence of smiles for a moment before Harry broke it, his voice slow and steady and a bit unsure but determined nonetheless. “Only thing is, can it... Can it be a date, Louis?”

Louis didn’t answer immediately, in fact as he heard the words slip through Harry’s plump little lips his own mouth fell open and he stared, wide eyed for a moment. Then, as he let his racing thoughts dissipate he simply smiled, looking down as he turned scarlet. “Yes,” Louis said, sneaking a glance up at Harry, who seemed properly glad about it. “Yes, I’d like that.”

***

A bit unsure of how to react to Harry, Louis wore something simple. Just a flannel and a jumper, jeans and oxfords. He didn’t know if he should dress up too much for a picnic in the park. And even at his age and stature he was uncomfortably excited for their date. He couldn’t even truly believe Harry had been such a gentleman, to ask him so politely and to even call it a date. Not many people did that sort of thing these days and Louis felt adored for the first time in a while. He’d been there before, with a charming and confident young man who’d broken his heart. Old memories that Louis just wanted to forget.

He didn’t know if he should be easy around Harry, if he should hesitate when he spoke or listen more than he talked. He didn’t know if Harry was going to be another heart breaker. He’d just come into his life so suddenly and with so much determination and strength and he was overwhelmed by the dignity with which he carried himself.

“You’re looking dashing,” Harry said as Louis crossed the street to meet him at the gate of the park. Harry really always was looking particularly sporty, dressed then in similar tones to Louis’ with browns and creams and a red gingham button down. “I’m glad you came.”

Louis was unused to such flattery, like that of one of the romance novels. Perhaps Harry had acquired some tips. Perhaps he was willing to woo Louis with his favorite methods, just like Darcy (after much struggle). “Thanks, Harry,” Louis said, eyes catching the stones beneath his feet. “You look very nice.”

Feeling a bit redundant Louis bit his lip. Why’d this sudden rush of nerves consume him as he saw the other boy. Harry put his hand around Louis’ waist and it felt so _right_. His arm providing warmth against his back and the softness of his touch combating the strength of his sprawling hand. Harry had a backpack on, a rather large one at that, and he was walking as slowly or quickly as Louis wanted, and he quite appreciated that.

“Where shall we settle?” Louis asked. The sun was beginning to fall a bit from the sky and Louis wondered if Harry would want to leave before it got dark. He hoped he wouldn’t.

They sat down between a few shady trees, Louis was unused to all of this: The theatrics, the care. Harry gave Louis a juice box, which elicited a good laugh, and he apologized, saying he had to make due with what he could find. He had prepared sandwiches and that just threw Louis’ heart through a loop.

Harry and Louis talked for what must have been hours, the sun was long gone and the park was lit only by the lamps along the paved paths. Harry looked especially soothed in the dim lighting, and Louis learned all about the boy from the way he chewed and paused when he spoke and kept his eyes fixed on Louis’ own.

“I hope we can be together for a while,” Harry said, as if he knew something Louis didn’t. And that worried him just a bit but he credited it to self consciousness.

“Whatever happens tomorrow, we had today. I’ll always remember it.” Louis said with a short smile.

“I quite like you, Louis,” Harry said, and it rolled off his tongue and dripped like honey, as if it were that easy for him to admit and yet it still had a meaningful heaviness about it.

Louis smiled to Harry, “I like you, too, Harry.”

And then after a few moments of eating cherries from a small ceramic bowl, Harry frowned.

“What is it?” Louis asked.

“I’m just unsure,” Harry said.

Louis frowned at this as well. “Unsure... Of?”

“You’re such a nice boy,” Harry began slowly, his words carefully selected and molded one by one. “I can tell you’re worth so much and I don’t want to mess things up with you or move too quickly or frighten you away. It’s just, I... I would like to kiss you, Louis.”

Louis felt the deepness in Harry’s voice as a sign of genuineness and so he blushed, though it was a bit too dark to tell, probably. “I’d like to kiss you, too.”

Harry inched closer to Louis across the picnic blanket, his mouth becoming closer to Louis’. The space was closed and Harry’s full, soft lips were pushing gently against Louis’. He tasted like cherries and he smelled like joy. They remained quite still for a moment but Harry finally licked at Louis, slowly at first until they were letting their tongues enjoy each other, until teeth were grazing lips, and the passion became them. After several moments they were separated again for purposes of breathing alone, and Harry’s lips looked wet and kissed and red. He was biting at his lower lip, his eyes hidden behind long lashes.

“I’d like to do that again,” Louis admitted with a low chuckle.

***

The next month went by in a similar fashion. Louis and Harry spent as much time together as they could. Harry would visit Louis at the shop and Louis would visit Harry’s dormitory at the university. They found that the next semester they’d have a few basic lessons together and that had them quite excited. Louis learned that, like himself, Harry was studying to become a lawyer. He learned of his favorite films (Titanic and The Notebook) and told him his own (The Holiday and the Family Stone) and they settled on having a romantic film day in the near future.

Though it had only been a month, Louis was already inviting Harry over for dinner. And he was already standing in the living room as his mother and sisters busied themselves in the kitchen and dining room. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He’d never _actually_ formally had a boy over for dinner before. It wasn’t like he and Harry were serious boyfriends, they just spent all of their free time together and snogged quite a lot.

“I’m so excited,” Phoebe squealed, pulling down at her dress.

Daisy smiled to Phoebe from across the room as they each set plates down onto the lined table. “Yes, I am, too.” They both shot Louis a wide-eyed look of happiness and Louis felt himself bubbling over.  Even Lottie was dressed up for the occasion and had put off a night with her friends and boyfriend to meet Harry. Jay was in a world all of her own, insisting she cooked every dish she had any idea how to prepare. She was beyond herself, words not able to express the gleam in her eye as she watched Louis talk about this curly headed lad who’d stolen his heart in such a short time. And she wanted everything to be perfect.

The room was smelling of spruce, which Louis adored, and he felt as though Harry would really feel welcome. When there was a knock on the door he was yanking at his hair to get it just right and adjusting his jumper to fit over his belt. He always got the same shock of nerves just before he saw Harry.

“Harry,” Louis breathed, lunging into the boy’s waiting arms. Each of Louis’ sisters were crowded around the dining room table, suppressing giggles and smiling idiotically. “These are my sisters,” he pointed to them all individually and named them for Harry.

Felicite was first to pop over to Harry and shake his hands, “It’s _lovely_ to meet you.”

Daisy and Phoebe gave Harry hugs, sparing no time for ‘getting to know each other’, which Louis found quite impressive because they weren’t always so receptive. “Brilliant to meet you,” they said in unison.

Jay popped out from the kitchen, her jumper was a bit wrinkled behind her apron and her hair was a tad in disarray. “Sorry, that range has been giving me right difficulty,” she embraced Harry in a hug. “We are so very glad to have you over for dinner. Heard nothing but _Harry this_ and _Harry that_ for ages now.”

Louis raised his brows, “Mum...”

Harry looked as though he felt welcome and so Louis felt comfortable. They were all sat down at the table in a few minutes. Their plates all covered, no bottom in sight beneath the many vegetables and ham and macaroni and cranberries. It was a proper Christmas feast.

“This is amazing,” Harry gushed, taking another bite.

“Very glad you enjoy it!” Jay pressed her knife into her ham and then smiled to Harry. “So you’re studying at the University as well?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said. “Law like Louis.”

Jay’s eyes glowed, “Oh, brilliant! I’d like to have two lawyers in the family,” she said with a friendly cackle. Harry and Louis both exchanged glances as they burst into laughter. “Anyway, Louis tells me you’re in the dormitories. Not from around here, then?”

“No, I’m from Cheshire,” Harry said. “Land of the boring.”

Daisy took a sip of her milk and then smiled, “Have you got any little sisters, Harry?”

“Yes, I hope so, we’d like new play mates!” Phoebe agreed.

Harry sighed, “No, I’m sorry! I do have an elder sister named Gemma and she works as a primary teacher and I know she’d love to play.”

“Do you mean it?” Phoebe and Daisy seemed elated at this. “Gemma?” Daisy chirped. “Oh, I can’t wait to meet her.”

Louis smiled to Harry, so very proud of him for making such a wonderful impression on his family.

Lottie was relatively quiet throughout dinner until Harry noticed the bracelet on her wrist. “Is that a Links of London bracelet, Lottie?”

The girl frowned, noticing her family all looking to her. “No, it’s an imposter. The genuine ones are really expensive...”

“Same here!” Harry barked a laugh and raised his wrist, showing her. “I normally just don’t say anything about it and nobody asks, really.”

“That’s me as well!” Lottie said, her face crumpling into an outrageous laugh. “Oh, that’s a right laugh, Harry.”

“Great minds think alike,” He reminded her with a wink.

Louis was truly as impressed as he could have been. Harry was a success, there was no doubt about it. They were standing by the door at the end of the night, everyone else was off doing their own thing and Harry was ready to give Louis a kiss goodnight.

“You’re mine,” Harry said. “And I’m yours. Right?”

Louis smiled to Harry, his eyes narrowing and his disbelief apparent. “Of course, you idiot.”

“I mean it,” Harry chuckled softly. “You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you, Louis?”

“Yes, I hope so.” Louis said, pressing his lips to Harry’s and giving him a final hug as he bundled up in his scarf and set off toward his car. “See you tomorrow,” Louis said as Harry opened the vehicle door. And they hadn’t discussed seeing each other the next day but it was more or less a given.

***

It was one morning, the sky was a foggy grey and Mr. Thompson was up in his flat. No customers had entered the shop all the while and so after taking the broom to the floor and dusting the shelves he decided it would be a kind gesture to bring Mr. Thompson some fresh tea, knowing very well that he was feeling  a bit more ill than usual.

As Louis climbed the stairs he heard a soft voice, a short whimper and so he stalled, resting his back against the wall.  
 

“And I see you sometimes,” Mr. Thompson was saying, his voice was muffled and it was slow and it was weak and Louis felt tears rushing to the fronts of his eyes. “I never forget you, love. I have some of your old clothes and I... I just like to smell you, I like to remember you.”

Louis clapped his hand over his mouth, the tea in his other hand shaking a bit.

“Oh, Marie,” Mr. Thompson was audibly hurting. “I just wish you didn’t have to go, my love.”

That was all Louis had to hear, and so he inched slowly down the stairs and left the tea in the back room, his eyes clouded with moist debris. Marie and Graham Thompson were the sweetest couple Louis had ever seen, their eyes dazzling when they spoke to or of each other, their voices changing key when they were around each other. Louis hadn’t ever heard Mr. Thompson talking to her like that, hadn’t ever really heard him mention the pain or the sorrow. Of course Louis knew it was there but just not in this way.

So Louis went back out to adjust a few of the titles, swatting away a few of the hot tears the rolled down his flushed cheeks.

***

Harry and Louis spent one afternoon together in the warmth of Louis’ bedroom. Everyone was away, the girls at school and Jay at work. So Louis decided this would be it. He’d prepared well, purchased condoms and lubricant. He didn’t want it to be uncomfortable, not too painful, at least. So he led Harry into his bedroom, taking him by his hand and then closing the door for good measure.

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders, kissing at his neck and running his hands through the luxurious chestnut curls. Harry’s hands were on his hips and they were moving slowly together, their tongues batting against each other in sweet electric bursts. Harry’s lips were full against Louis and he had a sturdiness about his body that made Louis feel safe to lean on. To feel his heartbeat against Harry’s. He was feeling like Harry wanted to push him to the limits, like he had a burning desire that nobody else had ever expressed.

Harry lifted his shirt over his head first, revealing a gorgeous and tattooed body. Louis shirt was next, and they kissed, their bodies still tangled up in each other, but it wasn’t long before Harry was crawling up onto Louis’ bed, supporting himself on his elbows and watching Louis inch up onto him, undoing his belt and pulling his jeans down past his feet.

There was a moment where Harry’s breath hitched as Louis grasped Harry, he stroked him slowly, rhythmically, enjoying the glaze in Harry’s eyes and the quiver on his mouth.

“Please?” Harry begged with a whisper as Louis’ mouth was dangerously near the head. “Please, Lou.”

Louis took it, all of it at once, and Harry bucked up into the back of his throat and so he hollowed his cheeks and slid back, taking the length once more and Harry’s body quaked and his hands gripped the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned pale. He threw his head back against the pillow, his back arching and he was filling Louis up so intensely. “Yeah,” Harry gasped as Louis bobbed faster, swallowing at the bits of pre-cum. “My god,” Harry let out a guttural moan.

“Your turn,” Louis said, lifting off and crawling over to lie down next to Harry. He usually wouldn’t be so insistant or demanding but Harry’s plump, full, scarlet lips were just... _Fuck_ , he needed them around him. He needed to see them like that, he needed to see Harry. And so Harry swung his legs around each of Louis’ knees and then yanked down Louis’ pants.

Harry had a way with his eyes, had a way of looking up at Louis through his fluttering eyelashes as he took him in his mouth, his large hand wrapped around the base and teasing, pumping up and down and begging for Louis to cum in his mouth.

As Louis threateningly moaned and grabbed at Harry’s hair he pulled off, licking around the head and the tip before a condom was practically shoved into his hand by Louis. Harry’s eyes widened a bit, Louis wondered if maybe he didn’t think Louis was ready to go all the way yet.

 

“I want you,” Louis assured him. “I’ve wanted you.”

Harry nodded, tearing open the condom and rolling it over himself hastily, being sure to take the necessary precautions. Louis handed him the lube and watched with a hunger burning across his face as Harry slid his fingers into the palm of his wet hand. He bit his lip, propping Louis’ leg up on his shoulder and he pushed in two long, filling fingers. They moved around  a little and there was no being mistaken once he’d hit Louis in just the right spot, his face flashed a scorching red and his eyes clenched close tight, his mouth shocking open and his toes curling. He gasped as Harry rubbed him, massaging him in the best way and leaning over his chest as he did so, kissing his neck and nibbling at his ear.

“Oh my god,” Louis cried out, Harry smiled into his mouth, groaning a little just to tease.

“Ready?” Harry asked, his fingers sliding out and Louis’ face twisting into pleasure.

Louis nodded impatiently, wrapping his legs around Harry’s waist and watching Harry’s eyes as the boy guided himself in slowly. “Feel all right?” Harry asked, Louis’ eyes were clamped close and he was clawing at Harry’s back as the pain commenced and he was feeling full, so very full in such a wonderful way.

Harry began to slowly thrust into him, his hips swaying from side to side a little and he was kissing Louis so _fucking_ hard, his lips were swelling and Louis’ hands sprawled over his back, grabbing at his ass and crying out for him, pulling him in deeper and deeper, his legs tight around Harry’s hips. Harry looked down to see Louis swelling between them, and so between slow, deep, and methodical thrusts Harry wrapped his hand around Louis and pumped, pushing in deep and tugging, teasing until Louis mouth was wide open and his back was arched, his stomach pulling at itself and his body felt like a battery, a shock pulsing through him as he spilled onto his own stomach.

It was only a few more moments, a few more times of Harry bucking into Louis with everything he had, before he was collapsing onto Louis and cumming, his breath hot against Louis’ neck and his heart fast.

“Damn it, Tomlinson,” Harry smirked, kissing Louis and holding his hand against the blushing boy’s cheek.

And so their first time together was not one to complain about.

***

Harry left Louis. He didn’t need to explain much, because they were drifting slowly apart after about a month. They didn’t see each other too much, they both were just busy, was all. Louis didn’t want to beat himself up over it, though of course he did. He could hear Harry in the rain that never seemed to stop, and he could feel Harry between the page of every book he read. He could see the curls against the window pane as he cried at night, and he kept hoping maybe Harry would say he was sorry for telling him they’d be better off as friends. He didn’t have to explain much, but Louis wished maybe, just maybe he’d realize he was wrong.

They just were heated in passion, Harry told Louis, but Louis deserved better and should focus on his studies and Harry didn’t want to get in the way of it. He didn’t want to hurt Louis, he didn’t want to prolong things and see anymore sadness in Louis’ eyes.

Louis thought this was selfish. He thought Harry was using his fear of hurting Louis as an excuse, a cheap excuse for not wanting to be with him anymore. And he didn’t know exactly what he’d done, they’d shagged and snogged like everything was fine every time they saw each other. It just became less and less frequent. And the Tomlinsons learned it was better not to ask Louis where Harry had been, why they hadn’t seen him around or heard anything about him.

Maybe Harry was just an asshole, just like Louis hoped he wasn’t. Maybe he never even really cared about Louis, because how could someone care about someone that much just to leave them and not even do it formally over lunch or dinner? Harry had just come in one day to the shop, one day when Mr. Thompson was helping Louis out at the desk, and so he and Louis stepped out for a moment. And when Louis returned and was fighting tears, Mr. Thompson did not ask what was wrong because Louis knew the poor old man wouldn’t have been able to cope with seeing Louis, a boy like his own son, so broken hearted.

But Louis went on, he had to. He couldn’t let his life stop for a two month fling that had him thinking love existed in a way he’d never imagined. He couldn’t  give his life up for this boy who was so quick to move on from their time together. He was curious about whether maybe Harry had another reason for leaving Louis, but he never had the nerve to ask. And they did have a few lessons together at the university but they were large enough classes that they did not speak. Harry never once looked to Louis during the class, which Louis could confirm because he was almost always looking.

It was such a sudden change to Louis’ life and he didn’t really know if he should regret feeling so strongly for Harry even though he hadn’t known him for very long. So he didn’t. He kept a small place in his heart open for Harry because he knew he’d never be able to give that piece away.

***

When Harry and Louis were seven months past graduation, after everything had changed, Louis was dressing up for a stupid dinner with Harry. They’d remained friendly after they were forced into a group project together during their second year at university. Louis had given up his dreams of being a lawyer in exchange for an English degree with dreams of being a writer. He had enough money to support himself after university from Thompson’s and Harry had given up his dreams of law school for a major in Biology. They’d both changed quite a lot but they were friends nonetheless.

Harry explained to Louis how he just wasn’t ready for commitment yet when he’d rushed in so head first with Louis, and he explained that he was very sorry and he cared about Louis a lot. Louis believed him, and so that’s why they were still friends. Comforted in each other’s support and understanding.

They hadn’t seen each other since graduation, and it felt like a very long time for Louis not to see Harry. He had moved on to bigger and better things, becoming a radio man in Paris. And Louis was still in London, working at Thompson’s book shop with the lovable Graham Thompson. He’d spent two months living with another guy, someone he thought maybe he could love, but he realized there wasn’t the same spark he’d had with Harry. So he moved out and found a small studio flat near the book shop and practically his whole check would be toward rent every month.

Louis found it to be a shock that Harry had called him so out of the blue, requesting that they have dinner together and catch up. He knew Harry had a boyfriend and so he didn’t know what this was all about, and the only possibility he could consider he ruled out just as quickly.

The restaurant Harry chooses to meet Louis at was very large, it was swanky and illuminated by bright blue lights, the music was loud and the hostesses were all dressed in long black dresses.  Louis was waiting for Harry, thumbing through random things in his cell phone and trying not to watch the revolving doors. He could’ve sworn he was in some sort of parallel universe as the restaurant truly seemed to be something from the twenties.

Harry finally walked in and he looked as gorgeous as he ever did and Louis wanted to cry at the sight. Louis was aged a bit and yet he still had those adorable curls, just a bit less. His eyes seemed tired and yet they lit at the waiting boy. He grabbed Louis and hugged him tight, and Louis didn’t really want him to let go.

“Harry,” Louis breathed, taking in the picturesque image. “You look great.”

“As do you,” Harry mumbled.

Louis rolled his eyes with a smirk, “Shut up, you.” He knew Harry was used to him by then and so they seated and sipping at their drinks when Harry cleared his throat.

“Hmm?” Louis was unsure of if he wanted Harry to bring up whatever reason he’d brought Louis to dinner. “What is it, Harry?”

Harry sipped his diet coke and then sighed, “I’m getting married, Louis.”

Louis’ breathing failed him for a moment but then he batted his eyes and smiled, a huge fake, put on grin that he couldn’t help and knew wouldn’t fail Harry. “I’m happy for you, Harry.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled, another fake grin that convinced neither of them. Louis wondered why Harry was acting like this. Why would he bring him to dinner and tell him he’s getting married? Why would he tell him that with such little self esteem? Was he expecting Louis to fight it? To ask him not to get married because he wanted him? Louis would never, and he expected Harry to know as much.

“Anyway,” Harry said, “It’s in about two months. I... I think Nicholas was a bit... Nervous... About inviting you. I really wanted your invitation to go out with the rest of them, Louis. I did. He doesn’t mind anymore. I talked him down. So I’m inviting you.”

Louis felt a little sting from that. Harry’s fiancée didn’t want him at the wedding. And Harry had fought for him to be there. He must’ve talked fondly of Louis or something for Nick to be unhappy about it. For him to protest to having Louis there. “Will it be awkward, though?” Louis said faintly. “I don’t want to ruin your wedding, Harry.”

“You could never ruin anything,” Harry said, a little too confidently.

***

Louis hadn’t seen Harry since a month before when they’d gone to dinner. The night ended well, they’d said how great it was to see each other and left it at that. Louis had agreed, stupidly, to go the wedding. He knew seeing Harry that night was a terrible idea. He’d become lost in Harry’s swimming green eyes just like before and he felt pain every time he considered Harry being married to someone else. He wanted to believe that was Harry’s way of coping, like he still wanted Louis but he wanted to try and move on and this marriage didn’t really mean anything. But then he didn’t want to believe that because that would hurt Harry, and it hurt Louis, and it would hurt Nick, too. And he sort of knew, he knew Harry didn’t want him anymore and he didn’t know why he kept trying to make up these awful scenarios where Harry still felt for him.

“Louis!” Mr. Thompson’s frail voice accompanied a noise upstairs. Louis rushed up, seeing Mr. Thompson laying on the ground between the bed and his walker.

“Oh, Mr. Thompson,” Louis cried, rushing over and helping the fragile man up. He was heavy, and a lot of support was necessary. He was weak and his bones were damaged from the fall. “What is it you need, I’ll get it?” He asked, helping Mr. Thompson back into bed. “Are you feeling okay?”

Mr. Thompson’s voice was hushed, “Yes, thank you, Louis. I’ll just have a lie, if that’s all right.”

Louis nodded, “If you need anything ring me. Please. Don’t trouble yourself anymore. The shop is in good hands, I assure you. You focus on getting better, all right, then?”

And Louis descended the stairs from the flat and fought away tears because he knew Mr. Thompson wasn’t getting any better, he hadn’t been in a very long while.

***

The wedding was painful for Louis, he couldn’t bear to watch Harry exchanging vows with another man. And he seemed so unhappy but Louis was convinced that was a figment of his own imagination because everyone around seemed to be reveling in the happiness. They all told Harry and Nick how adorable they were at the reception and they all spoiled them with lavish gifts and everyone was smiles and laughter.

Louis and Harry didn’t speak at the wedding, but  he knew Harry would appreciate a limited edition copy of _Jane Austen’s Complete Works_ wrapped for him. He told Harry congratulations briefly at the reception when he had a moment and Harry’s eyes were fixed on Louis for far too long, his lips didn’t move and before he could speak to the shorter fellow, people were talking to the groom from every angle and Louis disappeared into the mixture of people.

The wedding was in Paris, of course, and Louis had to ride the train back to London. He didn’t want to really consider the wedding any more than he had to, but of course it consumed his every waking thought for a good month.

A little over a year later Harry Styles walked into Thompson’s book shop.

“Harry,” Louis gasped, “What the hell are you doing here?” He rushed over to him, tightly embracing him as if nothing else mattered. He didn’t want to think about their chaotic past, he only wanted to hold him. But Harry seemed weak, he seemed tired and disappointed and lost.

Louis stepped back, examining the bags under Harry’s eyes. “You’re not well...”

“No, ‘m fine.” Harry said. “Just been up with Christopher.” And that caused Louis to cock his head. “He’s my son, Louis.”

Harry seemed to be admitting it in an odd way, and he walked with Louis to the back room. “What do you mean your son? That’s amazing,” Louis smiled. “Did you adopt?”

“In vitro,” Harry said. “Nick... Nick wanted it that way. The fucking bastard.”

“I’m sorry?” Louis found the tea from a cabinet and began to brew it. “Have I missed something.”

Harry nodded, “The divorce... The homelessness, the unemployment, the single dad thing.”

Louis’ hand fell from the knob on the stove and he looked to Harry, his eyes pale and digesting. Harry’s face was drained of color, his vision was blurred by tears and his lips were chapped from the cold. Louis pulled him in for a hug, “Oh, Harry.”

Harry’s arms wrapped as tightly around Louis as he could possibly imagine. His face was buried in Louis’ shoulder, sobs escaping his mouth and his chest heaving forward and his heart impossibly fast. “Harry, Harry, Harry.” Louis whispered, rubbing at his back.

They stood for a few minutes like that before Harry slowly lifted his head, breaking the hug and wiping at his face. Louis’ own face was marked with tear stains and he frowned to the taller gentleman. “You’re such a great man, Harry, don’t you know that?”

“’M not.” Harry took a seat at the small table as Louis gave him a cup of tea. “Not a great man, Louis. I left you. I left you and for what? Because I was _afraid_. That was selfish of me, Louis. And Nick’s cheated on me, he’s cheated on me loads of times and I never even knew it. And now Christopher and I live with my mum in Cheshire and everything is a bloody wreck, Louis.”

“Why didn’t you ring me, Harry?” Louis asked, trying to keep from sounding accusatory. “I would’ve been there for you. I _am_ there for you. I’m here, Harry, always. I’m always here for you.”

Harry gave a very weak smile, too weak to be a _Harry_ smile, but Louis accepted it as a thanks. “I heard you published a book.”

“I did,” Louis said with a soft smile. “Just a middle grade fantasy novel, no Harry Potter but it’s something.”

“That’s brilliant, Louis.” Harry said. “I’m so proud of you. I’ve got to get a copy of it for Christopher, when he’s old enough of course.”

Louis nodded. “Yes, you should.” There was a brief silence. “I’m really sorry about Nick, Harry.” And Louis felt like maybe he shouldn’t have said it but he had to. He had to be clear about his feelings and he had to let Harry know he cared. 

“It’s okay,” Harry said. “Things happen for a reason.”

“Do you believe that?” Louis asked, taking a sip of his tea.

“I do.” Harry said.

And so they sat in another brief silence before Harry took Louis’ hand on the table and then he was reaching across and he was kissing Louis. And it felt like heaven, it felt like things were finally going to go right. Like things were going to be okay. And so he kissed him hard, like he never wanted Louis to forget it, like he’d never have to.

When they were finished kissing they were all smiles and teary-eyes and they didn’t have anything to say to each other even though both of their minds were filled with questions and things they wanted to bring up.

“How’s Mr. Thompson?” Harry finally asked, just out of the blue to fill the silence, it seemed.

Louis stirred the small spoon his tea, his breath hitched and his bottom lip shook a bit. “Harry, Mr. Thompson’s passed away.”

Harry sighed a long, _Harry_ sigh and he squeezed Louis’ hand tight. “He loved you, Louis.”

“I know,” Louis said slowly. “I know, I know. He was getting so old, and weak. He was so unhappy without her.”

“He’d be really proud of you, Lou.” Harry said. And Louis could tell that he meant it with all of his heart. “He’d be so proud of you.”

The day ended with them leaving together once it was time to close up the shop, and Harry walked next to Louis, to their flat. They made love and Louis felt like Harry’s heart was his again. And as they lay there, their chests slowing and their eyes set on each other’s, Harry spoke first:

“I love you, Louis.”

“I love you, too, Harry.”

***

“I’ve been thinking,” Harry said at breakfast one morning. He and Louis are sitting at the round table with Christopher, who was three.

The young boy tilted his head. “What have you been thinking, dad?”

Louis rests and elbow on the tale and props his chin up on his knuckles. “Yes, what _have_ you been thinking?”

They lived in a beautiful home in Hampstead Gardens (a suburb right outside of London, just close enough to the bookshop), just a short while away from Anne,  bit shorter of  a way from Gemma, and a _bit_ of a ways way from Louis’ family, who all had welcomed Harry back to their family with great big open arms. Louis and Harry both had shining silver rings on their left hands and they both were sipping their orange juice and sharing odd looks.

“Christopher,” Harry said, his glance shifting from Louis to his son in quick moments. “What would you think about having a little brother or sister?”

At that Louis’ mouth dropped and his smile was ear to ear. He’d mentioned it to Harry many times, his dreams of having another child together. It wasn’t that Christopher wasn’t lovely, a proper young gentleman who was dashing and intelligent, but it would just be a lovely idea to have such a full family, they had so much love to give.

“I really want one,” Christopher decided, taking a bite of his bacon. “When can I have it?”

“Well daddy and I are meeting with someone today who will be able to let us know,” Harry said, catching Louis’ eye as he clasped his hand over his mouth. “After you finish your bacon you go and get dressed, all right? Put on a nice coat, it’s very cold out. And Aunt Gemma will be here as well, are you excited?”

“Yes!” Christopher exclaimed. “Oh, well I’m finished with my bacon,” he said, proving it by holding up his cleared plate. “I’m going to get changed!”

And with that Christopher was off, running to his room.

The adoption agency’s representative had been in contact with Harry for a while and had to have a few more meetings with he and Louis together. She had to meet Christopher and she had to meet both of the men’s existing family members. After inspecting the house and telling them she thought they were good to go, Harry and Louis waited for two months. Finally they received a call and a week later they brought home young baby Darcy, a little one year old girl with chestnut brown hair just like Harry’s. They’d decided to call her Darcy for many reasons, and though neither immediately admitted it, one was because of the way _Pride and Prejudice_ had brought them together. They settled in as a family in no time, their dynamic was changed but only in a positive way.

***

Louis and Harry were going to try and find a new house for their family, one a bit bigger because the standard home in the suburb like theirs weren’t suitable for a family of four with occasional guests from London (in the forms of Louis’ sisters).

Harry agreed to meet Louis at the house after a day of work. Christopher was in school and Darcy was with Harry at home. Louis’ book had really taken off and they were making much, much more than either of them could have ever anticipated or hoped for. It was a lovely surprise.

 

Louis closed the bookshop early that day, leaving a sign to explain. It was a big day. His new family was going to be moving and finding a house was as huge a step as any. Louis had his own car by then, and so he was taking the familiar route to make his way home.

There was no way that anyone could have expected it or stopped it. Harry had told Louis once that he believed things happened for a reason, but after that day he wasn’t so sure. The driver had been drinking an obscene amount that morning, what he was doing on the road nobody knew, and nobody could know because his own life was taken by the accident as well.

Harry’s hands couldn’t support the phone when he got the call. He couldn’t breathe or speak, he couldn’t imagine his beautiful, fragile Louis at the mercy of an idiotic drunk driver. It was too much to bear.

The next months were filled with constant support and love from Gemma and Anne. From Jay and Phoebe, Daisy, Lottie, and Felicite. Christopher didn’t really understand where his daddy had gone. He didn’t understand what happened that day.

Harry had to keep up with the bookshop. He had no choice. He didn’t want to, necessarily. It brought back the memories in painful flash floods but there was a comfort in the smell of the pages that he knew Louis loved so very much and he knew he couldn’t let Louis or Mr. Thompson down by letting it go. So he kept up with it, he kept it running and kept making sales and he hired accountants and business specialists to help him at first, and Gemma left her job as a teacher and she ran the shop with Harry.

A day didn’t go by when Harry didn’t think of Louis. He thought of the soft pressing of their lips together, he thought of his infectious laugh and his daring smile. He remembered all of Louis’ favorite things and places and he read their favorite stories every night. He wrote letters to him. Letters he knew he’d never read but they helped him somehow. He and Louis had just begun their lives together. After everything they’d been through it seemed so wrong, so unfair for it to end the way it did. And Harry was angry. There were some nights when he’d get drunk and piss someone off, just to get punched, to feel something. And he’d be bruised and battered and the only reason it ever stopped was because one morning, when Harry was lying with a hangover and damaged face, clutching his rib, Gemma simply shook her head with a frown. She only said one word that changed him, she kissed her brother’s forehead and she said: “Louis.”

And Christopher and Darcy were both beginning to grow up to be beautiful young sports. Harry took them to the park. The same one where he took Louis for their first date. Darcy and Christopher tossed around a ball and laughed and they joked, and Harry knew they missed Louis. They didn’t say it but he knew it when they sat down at the dinner table and there was an empty seat. He knew it when they had to get a table for three or when they got in the car and the passenger seat was vacant.

“I love you guys,” Harry laughed, scooping them up in his arms and hugging them.

“Did Louis come here with you?” Christopher asked softly, as if he felt afraid to know the answer or to upset his father.

Harry chuckled, “Yes, he did.”

“Do you miss him?” Christopher asked, and Darcy remained quiet, probably a bit confused.

“Of course I do, I miss him every day. He was my very best friend,” Harry told them.

Darcy sighed, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“I miss Louis, too,” Christopher said. “Just in case you were wondering if I did.”

Harry nodded, “I know you do.”

“Who is your best friend now, Daddy?” Darcy asked, her eyes wide.

“I have two now,” he said, squeezing them tight.

They sat there in the grass for a moment, all hugs and smiles and after the wind began to pick up, Darcy sighed. “It’s getting a bit chilly, can we go home?”

***

Harry and Louis were walking away from the park, towards the bookshop. The streets weren’t busy, oddly. Louis thought Harry was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. He’d only encountered him a few times but he’d given him the best first date he could imagine. Harry still had on his huge backpack and he was smiling at Louis uncontrollably.

Louis was going to just stay the night with Thompson that evening on the couch in the flat, it was perfect because he didn’t have to worry about getting across London to his mother’s and he'd be ready to just make tea and start work once he woke up. The park was a few minutes from the bookshop and neither boy was ready for the evening to end but both had respect for the other and liked the romanticism of a first date being holy in its regard. They crossed a few streets and the closer they got to the shop, the more cars and people they noticed out and about in the dimly lit streets.

Louis stopped at the front door of the bookshop.

“That was a lovely time,” Louis told Harry.

“I agree,” Harry said slowly. They both knew it was only the beginning.

“I’ll see you around,” Harry said with a grin, awkwardly stepping away.

“I know,” Louis said, his own lips curved up into a dumb grin as well. And it seemed as if they’d said their goodbyes for the night. It seemed like their first date was officially over and they'd both be on their merry way to go and write about it in their journals and stay up late with obnoxious heart eyes. But then they both took one step toward each other and embraced, their lips meeting and their hearts thudding against each other.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Louis said as he unlocked the door and waved to Harry.

“Goodnight, Louis.”


End file.
